Deadly Nightshade
by frostykitten
Summary: Something strange is going on with Hermione. She's got a weird medical condition, a day is missing from her memories, and Malfoy keeps talking to her as if he knows her even though she can't remember ever having a civil conversation with him. Everyone seems to be keeping something from her and she's determined to find out what it is.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**A/N: This started out as a oneshot that got rapidly out of hand. It's going to be three chapters and is just under 15 000 words. I once read a manga where there was a boy who was secretly a rosebush or something... It was forever ago, but that's kind of where this idea came from. Anyway, I hope you like it and don't forget to review!**

**~Frosty**

Neville looked down at his findings, pursed his lips and then sighed. He sent a sympathetic look at the woman waiting and watching him expectantly, and then crossed and uncrossed his arms, trying to find a way to deliver the news. Eventually, he decided there was no mincing around the issue, and that he was just going to have to go for it.

"You're a plant." His declaration was met with silence, so he elaborated. "Obviously not on a physical level, but St. Mungo's sent you to me because on a cellular level, somehow you've been changed into a plant."

Hermione had been confused when her Healer, obviously baffled by her curse, had suggested she visit Neville, one of the country's leading Herbologists. Hermione had been expecting a herbal remedy, not _this_.

"Neville, what are you talking about?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Normally, I'd suspect something to do with George, but he's been away on business for two months and this has only been going on for two weeks, correct?"

An affirmative sound was her answer. Around two weeks ago, Hermione had woken up to discover that she could no longer eat. No food at all could pass her lips without making her vomit. Even more worrisome was the complete absence of hunger. She'd found that the only thing she could manage to consume was water.

Unconsciously, Hermione shifted herself in her chair so that she was more fully in the patch of sun that had been slowly moving across Neville's office while he spent a disconcerting amount of time staring at the piece of parchment with his findings. She'd found that what had started as a fondness for the sun two weeks ago had become something bordering on obsession for her. This made a whole lot more sense now that she knew she was a plant.

"What does this mean for me? Is there a way to change me back? Can I live as a plant, or will my condition eventually kill me?"

Neville's uncertain expression was _not _comforting in the least. "I can do some research, and I'm betting you're going to do some of your own," he gave her a wry smile, "But as far as I know, this hasn't happened to anyone before."

Greatly disappointed, Hermione nodded and stood to leave. Normally she would have stayed and visited with her friend, but she was just too downtrodden to bother being social when she had so much on her mind. Neville would understand.

"One more thing!" Neville called after her. "Your Healer sent along a saliva sample and I tested it. You have a number of similarities with deadly nightshade; you're highly poisonous!"

Hermione paused in her retreat. "Does that mean I should quarantine myself away from everyone?"

"Just don't do any kissing and the like."

* * *

Hermione curled on the park bench in a ball of misery. Normally if she was in such a despondent mood, she'd be at home on her sofa, buried under a mound of books with a nice cup of wine. Since she was apparently a plant, she couldn't seem to bring herself or waste the sunlight by hiding indoors, and she could no longer ingest anything but water, so the wine was definitely not happening.

She desperately cast her mind back to two weeks ago, right before her condition had started. Unfortunately, it wasn't possible to be as thorough as she wanted because she was missing a day. It was just a huge blank spot in her memory. This wasn't the memory loss from the indulgence of too much alcohol, it was more like she'd gone to sleep on Thursday and woken up Saturday morning. There just wasn't anything at all in her mind from Friday, and no amount of memory enhancing potions or recollection spells had been able to reveal what she'd forgotten. She was beginning to suspect that she'd been Obliviated.

Of course, the Healers had come to the same conclusion but were hesitant to attempt something as delicate as returning her memories when they didn't know what else was wrong with her or what had caused her strange condition.

"As much as my vindictive side is pleased by your obvious misery, I have this annoyingly persistent voice that only makes an appearance for you, and it's urging me to ask what the hell is wrong with you before I start berating you."

Hermione had drifted into a near sleeping state in the warmth of the sun, but the venomous voice of her childhood nemesis violently ripped her from the happiest she'd been in two weeks.

"I don't have the energy to deal with you today, Malfoy," she said, barely sparing him a glance over her shoulder. He wasn't as well-groomed as she was used to seeing him; there were dark purple smudges below his eyes, his hair and clothes were in uncharacteristic disarray, and there was a red rash-looking spot on one of his cheeks.

For the briefest of moments, Malfoy actually looked a little hurt by her dismissal before his expression settled into borderline rage. Never had she seem him so angered in the past. "Fine," he spat, "You know where to find me when you deign to grace me with your presence."

He spun around and Apparated away, leaving Hermione completely baffled.

The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon and Hermione's energy levels were beginning to drop with the temperature. She decided it was best to get herself home before it got dark. In the two weeks she'd been dealing with her strange illness, she'd found that after the sun fell, the only thing she wanted to do was curl up and sleep until the sun returned.

She really didn't have the energy to spare to think about what in the world was going on with Malfoy.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was soaking in a mineral bath - something Neville had sent a letter suggesting she try - while she flipped through her day planner, trying to fill some of the holes in her memories. Neville had been right about the warm mineral bath making her feel infinitely better, but it wasn't doing anything for returning her memory.

According to her planner, in the week leading up to the Friday she couldn't remember she'd had a date with a mystery man, dinner with her parents, and tea with Ginny. The fact that she couldn't remember the date with the mystery man but had a perfectly clear recollection of every other event leading up to Friday was immensely suspicious. Unfortunately, Hermione had no idea who this man could have been.

She was going to have to retrace her steps the best she could to try and piece together what had happened on that missing Friday. Hermione would have done it sooner, but she'd been spending all of her time at the hospital and meeting with specialists as they tried to figure out what was wrong with her. Now that she knew, she was going to have to find a solution to her problem on her own, as it was obviously beyond the skills of the medical experts if they didn't have an understanding of how it had happened.

With a sigh, Hermione threw her planner to the other side of the bathroom so it wouldn't be hit by any spare drips and heaved herself from the mineral bath. The first place she would have gone on the missing Friday was work, so that was where she would go first.

* * *

"Morning, Hermione!" Daphne chirped when Hermione entered the bookstore. Hermione had initially been a little hesitant about hiring the former Slytherin to work in her store, but it had turned out to be one of her better decisions. Daphne Greengrass, while a little bit of a diva, was also competent, efficient, and surprisingly knowledgeable about books. Daphne was the only reason Hermione was able to get away from the store from time to time. Before Daphne, she'd hovered over every detail and nearly worried herself into ulcers.

"Are you feeling any better?" Daphne asked sympathetically. She headed over to the coffee maker, grabbing the coffee pot before she remembered that Hermione couldn't ingest anything but water.

Hermione sighed. "I'm feeling a little better, but my condition hasn't improved. Right now I'm working on retracing my steps in hopes of finding an explanation."

"I have no problem watching over the store until you've sorted everything."

A weight lifted from Hermione's shoulders. She'd been worried that Daphne would have too much on her plate to be able to take over Hermione's duties in the store for a while. Hermione knew that Daphne had her hands full with her younger sister at the moment. While she didn't know the full story, Hermione knew enough about Daphne's home life to understand that Astoria didn't take well to disappointment and recently something had happened to make the girl dangerously despondent and in need of supervision most of the time.

"Thank you so much!" Hermione had to fight off the urge to give Daphne a tight hug. She knew that the former Slytherin wasn't big on physical contact and wouldn't appreciate the gesture.

Daphne waved off the thanks. "Don't worry about it."

"Is Astoria doing better?" Hermione enquired kindly.

Very briefly, Daphne's eyes narrowed at the mention of her sister and Hermione worried that it was a sensitive topic, but Daphne quickly recovered herself, making Hermione wonder if she'd even seen it in the first place. "Astoria's actually doing a little better. She perked up as soon as she found out that she may just get what she wanted after all."

Hermione smiled. "That's wonderful." She didn't remember what Astoria had been like in school since the girl had been a few years younger and had been in Slytherin, but Hermione pictured the girl as a smaller, less emotionally stable version of her older sister.

"It really is." Daphne smiled teasingly. "Don't you have to get started with your detective work, boss?"

Nodding absently, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment she'd been using to jot down any ideas she'd had about what could have possibly happened to her. So far, her list was depressingly blank. "You wouldn't happen to know the identity of my date on Saturday three weeks ago, would you?"

Daphne's eyes squinted thoughtfully as she tapped a manicured finger against her lips. "You usually tell me about that kind of thing, but I can't recall you mentioning anything about a date."

That was about what Hermione had expected. She and Daphne usually gossiped about their personal lives while unpacking merchandise and the like, it was how Hermione knew all about the other woman.

Born a Pureblood with all the advantages that entailed, Daphne had intended to be a lovely wife on the arm of some rich Pureblood. With the war, she'd decided that she wanted to be more than a pretty accessory to be admired, and so she had informed her parents that she was going to get a job after school instead of getting married. Surprisingly, her parents had been okay with this, having already arranged the marriage of her younger sister and ensured Pureblooded heirs for the Greengrass family.

Hermione remembered Daphne's entire history, but she couldn't recall a thing about ever mentioning her mystery date to the other woman. Maybe Hermione had known that her date wasn't someone particularly safe and hadn't wanted her friend to worry?

"Be careful, Hermione," Daphne said worriedly.

"I'm always careful."

* * *

Hermione's date had been on Saturday, and then the very next day, she'd gone to her parent's house for dinner. She was hoping that she'd mentioned something to her parents about the identity of her date and had just forgotten about it. Even if she hadn't said something directly, it was possible that she'd dropped at least a hint.

"Hermione!" her father greeted her enthusiastically as soon as she knocked on the door. "It's been weeks since we've heard from you; your mother was starting to get worried."

Smiling, Hermione hugged her dad back as he squeezed her. She didn't get the same comfort from his hugs as she used to, Hermione could only assume that this was because she was no longer a mammal and so didn't have the same need for touch.

"I've been a little preoccupied lately," she said once he'd released her.

"Oh?"

They wandered into the house and each took seats at the kitchen table. "I didn't tell you and mum sooner because I didn't want to worry you. I've been having health issues for a few weeks and the Healers weren't able to figure out what was wrong with me."

Concerned, her dad's eyes started darting over her, looking for obvious signs of ill health.

"As far as anyone can tell, it's not life-threatening," Hermione assured him quickly, "But it's definitely something that's disrupted my life pretty severely."

"What is it?"

Her nose wrinkled as she tried to think of a way to phrase her diagnosis that wouldn't make her sound inane. Unfortunately, there wasn't one. Her dad was just going to have to accept what she said as possible, just as he'd been doing since she started her education at Hogwarts.

"It seems that I've been turned into a plant."

"Hermione, if you're sick, you shouldn't joke about it."

"I know it's strange, dad, but it's the truth. I still look like myself, but I'm a plant on a cellular level." She paused, giving that a moment to sink in before continuing. "I also seem to be poisonous."

Mr. Granger took his glasses off and rubbed his hand over his wrinkled face and then through his hair like he did when he was under stress.

"How did this happen, and why can't they fix you with magic?"

The first question was easy, but the second one was harder. Her dad had asked her the same question when his sister had been suffering with a heart condition. Hermione had looked into it, consulting multiple Healers and books, but there just wasn't anything magic could do for someone who was that broken. Her dad hadn't spoken to her for days after her aunt's death, needing someone to blame for the loss of his sister. Hermione had understood, but that didn't mean it hadn't hurt her.

"The Healers have no idea how this could have happened, my condition is actually something that no one's ever heard of before. For that reason, the Healers have no idea how to fix me. First I have to find out how this happened."

He nodded, the pained look in his eyes showing that he was also remembering the loss of his sister and the resulting period of tension between him and his daughter. "If there's anything I can do, let me know."

"Actually, there is something you could do. I had a date on Saturday and can't remember who it was. Do you know?"

Mr. Granger pursed his lips and tilted his head in an expression of deep thought that his daughter had inherited. "You have no recollection whatsoever of the entire date?"

"None at all." She refrained from mentioning that she couldn't remember the Friday after her date at all, not wanting to worry her father further.

"Sorry, I can't recall you telling your mother and me that you had a date."

Hermione nodded her thanks, a little disappointed that she was still without clues.

They chatted for a while longer, moving on to lighter topics while they waited for her mum to return from the store. After a whole hour, Hermione was starting to get antsy being out of the sun for so long and was forced to make her excuses and leave.

She spun on the spot, transporting herself back to the park she'd been in the previous day, headed towards the sunny bench that she was starting to think of as hers. Unfortunately, the bench was already occupied by a familiar blond man.

Hermione's approach froze and she was on the verge of turning around and Apparating somewhere else when he happened to look up from his book and catch sight of her. His eyes darkened with anger. "Granger, come here." He pointed to the space beside him on the bench.

There was a moment's pause as she debated whether she should obey his command or not. Something told her that if she didn't at least hear what he had to say, then he was going to relentlessly harass her until he had said his piece.

Very reluctantly, Hermione trudged over and took the seat he had indicated. Despite the presence of Malfoy, her mood immediately lifted in the bright sunlight shining directly at the bench.

Malfoy looked at her expectantly, seemingly waiting for her to say something. She had no idea what it was that he was expecting, so Hermione just stared blankly back at him.

When the silence started getting to her, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I thought you were waiting for me to find you."

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say, since his eyes only darkened further. "My mistake before was assuming that you were Gryffindor enough to come and face me, but I've since realized that you're more childish than I ever thought you could be. Now I'm being the bigger person about this."

Besides a distant and vague memory of Malfoy having come in to her bookstore the previous year for some reason or other, Hermione couldn't recall having any interaction with the man since she'd sat in on his trial.

"Malfoy, I have no idea what you're talking about," she said slowly, enunciating clearly as if he wasn't quite right in the head.

His cheeks reddened and Hermione started to worry that his head might explode if he got any angrier, but then he took a second look at her face. "You really don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

She shook her head. "The last time I remember talking to you was last year sometime when you came into my shop to buy a book. Is there more I should remember?"

Hermione wasn't stupid, she knew it was possible that Malfoy was part of the problem with her mind and body. However, something about his strong emotional reactions led her to believe otherwise. From what she'd learned about him at school, Malfoy was all about control; he'd rather hiss an insult and then take someone down subtly through other means, rather than lose his temper like he had only moments ago.

She watched, somewhere between fascinated and horrified as the colour drained from Malfoy's face, leaving no trace of his earlier flush. His eyes ran over her looking for injuries, much like her father's had earlier in the day. That more than anything, spoke volumes about his sincerity.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco demanded. His hands clenched and unclenched as he fought off the desire to reach out to her.

Hermione had been examining him just as intently as he had her. "I seem to be missing chunks of my memory, primarily a date three weeks ago and all of the following Friday." She refrained from telling him about being a plant, not sure how much she wanted to reveal. While she believed Malfoy to be genuine in his reactions, she didn't necessarily trust him.

"So you have no idea who it was that you dated that Saturday?" His voice shook slightly with something, but Hermione was having trouble pinpointing what emotion it was exactly.

"None, but I have a feeling that you're going to enlighten me."

This time he gave in to the urge to touch her. Hermione flinched slightly when the blond gently laid a hand on her arm, turning to face her more fully. Unlike before when the hurt he showed had only been a flash, the ache that shone in his eyes was deep and strong. Hermione felt bad for her flinch, but when working with the limited information she had, it had been an involuntary – and understandable - action.

"Hermione, we're dating – or we were before you forgot about it." He watched her for a reaction, and continued when she didn't immediately dismiss his claim. "I thought you were avoiding me because we had a fight on that date you mentioned. You really don't remember anything?"

"I remember everything, just not you."

Hermione, starting to feel bad for continuing to hurt this strange, oddly sensitive Malfoy, had been expecting him to be hurt once again, but instead fury started edging into his eyes. "Someone took all of your memories of me?"

She nodded.

"Then you only have my word that I'm telling the truth." He said this more to himself than Hermione, seeming to already be deep in thought.

While he did this, Hermione glanced worriedly at the sun. It was already getting low in the sky and she could feel herself starting to wilt from tiredness. Whatever conclusions Malfoy was going to reach, he'd have to reach them soon or else she'd be forced to leave him ruminating on her bench.

"You need to go home," he finally said. "Strengthen your wards with the best spells you know, stay home, and only let people in once they've answered a question proving their identity. I'll be around tomorrow afternoon with Veritaserum to prove that what I'm telling you is the truth."

Hermione bristled at being ordered around, but chose to instead focus on sating her curiosity. "What do you know that I don't? Why should I act like there are Voldemort sympathisers out to get me?"

Malfoy put his hands on both of her shoulders, making sure she could see the urgency in his eyes. "I'll explain everything I know tomorrow. We're going to get to the bottom of this."

Since she'd been planning on going home anyway and Malfoy's intensity was starting to make her slightly uncomfortable, Hermione nodded her head.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione had a nice, long mineral bath since they seemed to energise her. After she had dressed and drank a large glass of water enriched with a plant food packet that Neville had suggested she try, she searched her entire apartment and even her office in the store for any hint that she had in fact been in a relationship with Malfoy - or anyone for that matter. Of course, she'd already done this as soon as she'd known there was a mystery man, but she hadn't been looking for hints about Malfoy specifically then. There was nothing.

She briefly contemplated doing as Malfoy had suggested and staying in her apartment above her bookstore until he came to see her, but she quickly dismissed that idea. Despite being a plant, there was nothing wrong with her magic, and she was perfectly capable of defending herself. Besides, she still had to pay Ginny a visit. There was a chance that Malfoy had been lying about dating her and it was possible that Ginny could disprove him.

Still on maternity leave from the Harpies after the birth of James, Ginny was usually home in the middle of the day, so Hermione went to visit her right after breakfast time. Malfoy had said he'd be at her apartment in the afternoon, so as long as Hermione didn't linger at Harry and Ginny's house, she should be back with ample time to prepare for Malfoy's visit.

When Ginny opened her door, she looked frazzled and had a screaming James in a sling across her front.

"Hermione!" Her exclamation was more one of desperation than happiness at seeing her friend. "Would you mind taking James for a minute? I've had to go to the loo for the last hour, but I can't get him to stop _crying_."

Since her friend looked on the verge of bursting into tears and Hermione never turned down a chance to hold James, she was happy to help Ginny. She accepted the baby and shut the front door behind her while Ginny rushed off in search of the bathroom.

"Your mommy needs a vacation," Hermione cooed to the red-faced, screaming baby.

Hermione had managed to get James to stop crying by the time Ginny returned from the loo. While he had stopped crying, James wasn't as cuddly with Hermione as he normally was. She could only assume that he sensed she was a plant instead of a person and had reacted accordingly.

"You're a lifesaver, Hermione. How'd you know I desperately needed a visitor?" Ginny asked, accepting James back from Hermione. Despite her seemingly normal interactions, Hermione sensed an underlying tension in her friend. It was as if Ginny expected Hermione to lash out at her at any moment.

"Honestly, this isn't a purely social visit; I've come with an agenda." Hermione watched her friend closely, noting that Ginny tensed further. "I have this gap in my memories and am trying to fill it in. My planner said I went on a date a few Saturdays ago, and I was wondering if you had any idea who it was with."

Ginny seemed to relax and then started to look worried as Hermione's words sunk in. "You have gaps in your memories?"

Leaving out the plant stuff, Hermione explained to her friend about the gap in her memory and about the missing Friday. Ginny looked increasingly worried as Hermione's story went on.

"It sounds like someone's tampered with your memories," Ginny said when Hermione finished.

"That's why I need to know who I was seeing on that date. I'm hoping he'll have some answers for me."

Ginny looked contemplatively at Hermione and then her expression abruptly switched to sympathy. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but if there was someone you were seeing, you never mentioned it to me."

Immensely disappointed, Hermione cited an afternoon visitor and left Ginny's house feeling disappointed – not because Ginny hadn't had the information she'd wanted, but because Ginny had been lying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: Hello readers! I've been asked for a timeline just to keep things straight. I actually had to write myself one so that I could keep it straight while I wrote this. Saturday: date with mystery man, Sunday: Hermione had dinner with her parents, Monday-Wednesday: nothing, Thursday: Hermione had lunch with Ginny/ Harry gave Draco his potion, Friday: Hermione doesn't remember.**

**Coolgems1630 was kind enough to find the manga I mentioned reading years ago. It's here if you're curious: www . mangafox . me / manga / yasei _ no _ bara / Also, I would like to note that when I read it, there was only one chapter there and I assumed that it was a oneshot.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I got waaaay more than I was hoping for, you guys are awesome!**

**~Frosty**

"You didn't listen to me," Malfoy said accusingly.

Hermione had no idea how he knew that, and her confusion must have shown on her face.

"I realized after you left that you'd agreed with me way too easily, which always means that you're just trying to placate me so that you can go do the exact opposite of what I tell you."

He really did know her well. Something fluttered in her chest. The feeling was somewhere between touched that he knew her so well and terrified for the same reason.

Whatever her reaction to it, his comment was enough for her to let him into her apartment with some degree of confidence. She'd obviously interacted with him on some level in the past for him to so accurately predict her reaction to his words.

Malfoy didn't look around curiously or anything else a person usually does upon first entering a new home, he made his way directly to the sofa. It appeared as if he'd been in her apartment before, probably more than once. He sat, producing a bottle of clear liquid from his pocket. Before Hermione could say anything, he took a good mouthful of the liquid and set the bottle on the table with an accomplished thump.

"Ask me whatever it will take for you to believe me." There was a slightly glazed look in his eyes that suggested he was under the potion's effect. Hermione had to be sure though.

Instead of doing as he asked, Hermione first took the bottle of Veritaserum and sniffed it, making sure the liquid was odourless and dabbing the smallest drop on her tongue to ensure it was flavourless.

She decided to start with something simple. "Are we dating?"

"We were; I'm not sure if we still are since you don't seem to remember me."

"How long were we dating?"

"Three months."

"How did our relationship start?"

He smirked the tiniest bit. "I visited your shop looking for something to read, and was surprised to find my childhood nemesis behind the counter. You told me that you'd never, ever consider dating me when I commented that you really filled out your dowdy blouse. Realizing that you had really grown into your looks and turned on by your sharp tongue, I proceeded to charm the pants off of you and visited every day for two weeks until you agreed to date me."

That was kind of cute. Hermione had been hoping that the truth would strike some kind of chord within her and maybe her memories might return. It had been a naive hope, and Hermione should have known better. While she could picture them bickering over dates in her mind, it was her imagination supplying the images, not her memory.

She contemplated her next question for a moment before speaking. "What was it we fought about that made you think I was just ignoring you these past few weeks?"

"I wanted you to move in with me, but you didn't want to leave your tiny little apartment."

Hermione's eyes widened, surprised that they'd progressed so far in their relationship that they had already started talking about living together. They must have been pretty serious.

"Did I love you?" she blurted without thinking.

"Yes."

"Did you love me?"

"I _still_ love you."

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what was going on with her circulatory system, being a plant and all, but she definitely felt herself reddening at the conviction and passion in his voice. She really wished that she could remember him as something other than the angry teenager at his trial, or the surly little boy attending Hogwarts. It seemed like he'd grown up into a wonderful man and she was sorry that she'd forgotten him.

One more question before she let him take the antidote she knew he had somewhere in his robes. "Do you have any idea what's happened to me?"

"No, and when I find out who did this to you, I'm going to remove their fingers one by one and then-"

Hermione cringed. "Please stop before I you give me any more images that I can't get out of my head. I believe you. You can take the antidote now."

He smirked at her for not remembering anything about him but still being able to predict something about him. Malfoy drank the antidote and gave it a minute to take effect before he spoke again.

"What's that red spot on your cheek?" she asked, partially to sate her curiosity and partially because she wanted to make sure that the Veritaserum had stopped working.

"Potter," Malfoy spat. "He came to see me-" he looked up to meet Hermione's eyes- "The day before you lost your memories. He fed me some weird love potion and I spent a week infatuated with a tree. What you're looking at is the resulting bark burn. Trees don't cuddle well."

Hermione would have laughed, but the whole plant thing cut a little too close to home. "Why would Harry do something like that?"

He shot her an incredulous look before he remembered that she'd lost her memory. "About a month ago, we announced to our friends and family that we were dating. Obviously, it didn't go over well."

"You don't think it was our friends and family that did this to me, do you?"

Malfoy stared at her hard for a moment. "There's something more you're not telling me."

"This is going to sound strange, but I'm a plant. I can't eat anything, I sleep almost as soon as the sun goes down, and I get twitchy if I spend too long inside without windows and sun shining on me."

Hermione expected some more of the disbelief that everyone else had shown upon being informed that she was a plant. Instead, Malfoy leaned forward slowly, so as not to startle her, rested his nose in her hair by her neck, and took a big sniff. She sat straight, startled at his action, her movement breaking their contact.

"You don't smell like you," he announced, not sounding surprised. He'd believed her and was just confirming it for himself, which was more than everyone else she'd told had done. His eyes darkened in the angry expression that was becoming the norm with him when he was around her. "Who did this?"

Hermione supposed that was one day to discern that someone was no longer a mammal. It was actually quite clever when she thought about it; having been dating her for a while, Malfoy must be quite familiar with her personal smell, but as a plant, she just didn't have pheromones, skin oils, or anything like that.

"That's what I've been trying to figure out," she explained. I was kind of hoping to have some answers when I solved the mystery of our date. He was my only suspect."

Malfoy leaned back against the sofa and looked in her direction without really seeing her, his mind miles away. "Well, since we were both attacked within 24 hours of each other, and the week after we announced to our friends and family that we were dating, I think it's safe to say they may be suspects."

"I asked everyone I met who I had been dating and couldn't remember, and every one of them told me that they had no idea who it could be." She looked at him sharply. "You can't possibly be thinking..."

He smirked at her. "You know very well that I'm thinking our friends and family could have had something to do with this, darling. That's not your issue. Your problem is that you think the same thing."

"I just don't want to believe that they'd be capable of such a thing."

"I know you don't, love." There was genuine sympathy in his tone, something she wasn't used to hearing in his voice - or at least not in the voice of the Malfoy that she remembered. It hadn't failed to escape her notice that he'd upped the endearments he was using. Hermione assumed that he normally used the endearments and had been too angry with her earlier for them to slip from his lips.

Malfoy continued his distant staring. "You know, when I visited my mum a few days ago, she made a comment about me 'not having to worry about that Granger girl anymore'. I thought it was because she thought our fight over living arrangements was going to be the end of us, but with recent events taken into consideration, I think she knows something."

Hermione hesitated a moment before just speaking her mind. She needed to get all the information she could, without worrying about Malfoy's feelings. If this strange new Malfoy cared about her as much as he claimed - which she suspected he did - then he would understand.

"Is your mother capable of doing this to me?"

Happily, Malfoy wasn't offended, and his answer was immediate. "Yes."

* * *

Hours later, Hermione and Malfoy were still on her sofa discussing how they should go about confronting Narcissa. Over the course of their discussion, Hermione had moved from her previous seat across the room to beside him on the sofa – so that she could hear him better, of course. Hermione found that, while she didn't seem very receptive to touch as a plant, she was very fond of listening to his voice. She wanted to be closer to it.

"You used to have pictures of us, you know."

Hermione looked at him questioningly, so he elaborated.

"There was a big picture of us on your mantle along with all of those pictures of the rest of your friends and family. The one with me in it has been removed, but all the other ones remain." He nodded his head towards the alcove beside her door, where her hook for coats was located. "I gave you a lovely cashmere scarf that matched perfectly with that horrible brown coat you love so much, but that's missing as well."

"Someone went through my apartment and removed everything that could possibly remind me of you?" she asked, feeling violated. He'd already told her the answer, so it was just a rhetorical question, a need to voice it herself and let it sink in.

They settled into silence as she contemplated this new horror.

Malfoy's stomach rumbled, reminding Hermione that even if she didn't like to eat, he still needed to.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked.

His eyebrow rose skeptically. "I'm betting you have quite the aversion to heat now that you're no longer a mammal."

Hermione was baffled; he was right. How in the world did he keep _doing _that? Even she hadn't been aware of her new aversion to heat until she'd tried to cook herself something and discovered that the heat rising from the stove made her so anxious that she nearly vomited.

Without waiting for her to recover from her surprise, Malfoy rose, walked to the kitchen and started going through her cupboards searching for something to eat. Not having had any need for sustenance other than water and sunlight for months, Hermione was a little low on groceries, but he managed to find himself a microwave dinner in the freezer. He easily operated the microwave, and then pulled it out with a look of distaste.

Hermione couldn't help her staring as he brought the food back to the sofa with him. Of course, he caught her staring and smirked. "You gave me the exact same expression the first time you saw me eat a frozen dinner, and then you showed me how to work the microwave instead of doing it with magic."

At least she was consistent in her reactions, and Malfoy certainly seemed to find her amusing.

Frantic knocking on her door distracted her from being creepy and staring as Malfoy ate his microwave dinner. He hadn't seemed to mind, so she had just continued.

Wondering who in the world would be so desperate for her attention, Hermione left Malfoy to his food and went to get the door. She was on the verge of opening it when it burst open itself and Ginny stumbled in, wand raised and James clasped on her hip.

"Hermione, I have to tell you something," the redhead said, shoving her wand back into her pocket so that she had a hand free to grab Hermione's arm anxiously.

Slightly distrustful of her friend, but knowing that Ginny would never start something with James present, Hermione waited to hear what Ginny had to say. She subtly tapped her pocket to make sure that her wand was where she'd left it, but she didn't draw it. Like Ginny, Hermione would also never start something if James was present.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably, not her usual fiery self. "I _may _have had something to do with your current... state."

Suddenly, it was difficult for Hermione to take in enough air. Of course, she had logically considered that her friends and family could have had something to do with her strange illness, but emotionally, she hadn't thought it was possible that they would betray her in such a way.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, her voice quiet.

James, sensing the tension in the room, burst into wet, noisy sobs and he rapidly turned red. Ginny bounced a little and made shushing noises, trying to stop his crying.

Of course, this was when Malfoy chose to make his presence known. It would be asking too much for _all _of the antagonistic aspects of his personality to disappear just because he was in love with her.

"I thought you strengthened your wards, Hermione," Malfoy said, placing himself firmly at Hermione back so that they presented a united front. "You were supposed to keep just this sort of riffraff from entering." He sneered at Ginny, who responded with a similar expression.

"I thought you couldn't remember him," Ginny called over the wailing of her offspring. She covered her mouth when she realized what she'd said.

"You told me that you had no idea who I was dating."

Ginny paled further and James started to scream even louder. Oddly enough, it was Draco who stepped forward and held out his arms for the baby. Even more confusing to Hermione, Ginny actually let him take James.

"The little guy loves Malfoy," Ginny grumbled. Her point was proven when James' tears stopped and the baby happily squealed at Draco as the blond man bounced him.

Hermione watched Malfoy with the baby. Even as a plant, she could tell that Malfoy would be a good father; she was drawn to him because of it. If the draw was so strong when she wasn't in possession of the mammalian need to reproduce, the draw must have been so much worse when she was herself. She was starting to understand what she'd seen in him before the whole memory loss thing.

Once the boys were settled on the sofa playing some sort of game involving flashes of colour from Draco's wand, Hermione tilted her head towards the kitchen, indicating that she and Ginny would talk in there.

"How could you take my memories of Malfoy?" Hermione demanded of her friend.

Instead of contrition, Ginny's face only showed confusion. "I didn't have anything to do with your memory loss. Neville sent Harry a letter and mentioned your strange plant condition, thinking you would have told us about it. _That's _why I'm here."

Her gaze turned briefly accusing before Hermione's raised eyebrow made her blush. Ginny had no business pretending that Hermione hadn't been a good friend because she was keeping secrets, when Ginny herself had been plotting behind her back.

"Harry and I were just trying to nudge you two apart," Ginny continued. "Harry gave Malfoy a potion that would make him fall in love with someone else, and when you came over for tea, I slipped you a potion that was supposed to make him unappealing to you. No one was supposed to get hurt or anything."

Hermione's eyebrows drew together. "Malfoy's potion made him fall in love with a tree."

"As far as we can tell, some plant matter got into both the potion we made for Malfoy and the one we made for you." Meekly, Ginny handed Hermione a handwritten potion recipe as well as a vial of deep green liquid. "This is what I gave you. Harry and I have already sent it off to the best Potion's Master we could find, but he hasn't found anything yet."

There was a pause, presumably while Ginny waited for some sort of response. Hermione let her wait, taking her time in reading over the ingredients in the potion as well as the jotted note at the bottom with Ginny's guess about the plant matter that had fallen into the potions.

"How could you and Harry do this to me?"

Ginny's eyes were overly-bright with tears, but she kept her chin up, willing to stand by her actions. "Malfoy is a horrible match for you. He was just taking advantage of your kindness and using you to improve his family image."

Maybe this would have been believable before she'd spent the afternoon with the man, but it wasn't at all believable now that Hermione had gotten to know him better... again. She wasn't sure if Ginny was just deliberately obtuse in refusing to acknowledge that Malfoy had changed, or if her friend had imagined Malfoy a threat to justify her own prejudices. Whichever it was, Ginny and Harry had no excuse for what they had done.

Hermione turned away from her waiting friend and walked into her living room. The boys were still engaged in their game, but Hermione could tell from the tense set of his shoulders that Malfoy wasn't nearly as immersed in it as James appeared to be. She was willing to bet that Malfoy had been eavesdropping to their kitchen conversation the entire time.

Wordlessly, she picked up James and handed Malfoy the recipe for the potion that had supposedly turned her into a plant. She wasn't sure, but she didn't think those ingredients alone would have been enough to change her genetic makeup so thoroughly. Hermione didn't remember Malfoy's current career or anything, but she remembered that he'd been good in potions back at Hogwarts, and she had a feeling that he'd be able to assess the potion's ingredients just as she had.

Leaving the blond to his contemplation of the parchment, Hermione brought James back to his mum, who was still waiting in the kitchen.

The phone rang just as Hermione reached Ginny, so she handed over the baby and rushed to answer it. Like she had every afternoon since Hermione visited her dad and explained her medical situation, Hermione's mum was calling to see if she was feeling any better.

"Hermione, how are you feeling?"

"Still the same, mum, but I think I've found the potion that's responsible for me suddenly turning into a plant." She really wasn't positive, but it was best to give her mum hope so that she could stop worrying.

"Potion?" her mum squeaked. Hermione caught her strange tone, remembering the aversion her parents seemed to have to magic since she'd Obliviated them. The only time they didn't hate her magic was when they thought there was something it could do for them that they couldn't manage by Muggle means, such as healing defective hearts.

"Yes, mum. Listen, I have company and I'm going to have to let you go."

Hermione hung up the phone and turned to Ginny, who was standing uncomfortably in the middle of her kitchen.

"I know you never liked Malfoy," Hermione said, careful to keep the anger from her voice so that she wouldn't upset James. "But as my friends, I would have thought that you and Harry would have more faith in my judgement."

"But Hermione-"

"I think it's best that you leave."

Cheeks red with either humiliation or anger, Ginny left Hermione's apartment. The door shut behind her with a soft thump that seemed to echo with finality throughout the building.

Hermione was losing energy fast, which probably meant that the sun was on the verge of setting, but could also be attributed to her emotionally strenuous day.

"This may have contributed to your current state, but by itself, this potion wouldn't be enough to turn a mammal into a plant," Malfoy said from the sofa. His voice was quiet but pitched to carry.

Jolted from her episode of staring sadly after Ginny and wondering why the other woman had so little faith in her, Hermione turned to look at Malfoy. The person she'd thought just that morning that she could trust the least in the world had actually turned out to be one of the more trustworthy people in her life.

She sat down beside the blond man. "I thought the same thing when I read over the ingredients in the potion."

A glance out the window showed her that the sun was resting on the horizon, about to slip below it. She yawned, wishing for her bed.

"You should probably go to bed," Malfoy said.

For a second, Hermione had forgotten that he was in the room, so she jumped a little when he spoke. He was watching her intently, his sharp eyes not missing a single thing about her. She'd be disturbed that he could read her so easily if he didn't seem to have the best intentions regarding her safety.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not planning on leaving?" she asked. It seemed that she was starting to get better at reading him. When she had all of her memories, she was willing to bet that she had been able to read him just as well as he could read her.

Malfoy met her stare, daring her to challenge him. "I'll sleep out her of the sofa. Until we figure out what's happened to you and who did it, I'm not comfortable leaving you alone."

Oddly enough, Hermione was actually a little bit comforted by Malfoy's presence. She hadn't been staying awake at night scared or anything, but she had a feeling that she may sleep just a little be sounder with him right in the next room.

"Let me get you some pillows and blankets."

Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed and he gave her a small smile.

* * *

Something was ringing, and Hermione was getting increasingly annoyed with the sound. She tossed and turned in her sleep, but just couldn't manage to rouse herself from her slumber. The logical part of her brain told her that the sun was probably still below the horizon, and the rest of her brain was occupied with supplying a string of strange dreams.

Hermione finally managed to open her eyes when a streak of light fell across her face, let inside her darkened room by the opening of her bedroom door.

Malfoy slipped into her room and pressed something smooth and relatively light to the side of her head. "It's your mum," he whispered.

"Hello?" Hermione grumbled, having figured out that Malfoy had answered the phone.

The red numbers of Hermione's clock said it was just past three in the morning, and her internal clock told her it was still a few hours before the sun would make an appearance.

"Hermione," her mum said, sounding oddly stern, "I thought you'd forgotten about that – that _man_."

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked, still a little confused and nowhere near fully awake. The blond, having not left the room when he handed her the phone, raised an eyebrow at her from where he sat on the edge of the bed. Hermione shook her head at him.

"Yes; him."

"That's really none of your business, mum. Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?"

Her mum made an annoyed huffing sound. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Something that couldn't wait a few hours for the sunrise?"

"Hermione, I may have slipped you a potion."

Wide-eyed, Hermione hit the speakerphone button and waved Malfoy closer.

"What are you talking about, mum?"

The annoyed huff came again before her mum spoke. "It just didn't sit right with me that you were dating someone who had made you so miserable during school – and don't pretend for a second that he didn't make you cry at least once every few weeks with his horrible words and prejudices."

Hermione chanced a glance at Malfoy, but he was resolutely looking in the other direction. He looked relaxed, save for the one fist that was clenched tightly. When Hermione slid her hand over that fist, he looked at her with surprise and she gave him a comforting smile. He relaxed minutely and returned the look.

"So I used one of those mail-order catalogues," her mum continued, unaware of the scene happening on the other end of the phone, "And ordered a potion that was supposed to give you an aversion to touching that man. It was supposed to end your relationship.

"When you visited and told your father that you'd lost your memory of him, I thought it worked and that it was something else that had turned you into a plant, but then you said a potion may have done it... I contacted the manufacturer and they said if their potion was combined with something else, there may be 'undesired side effects'. I thought I should call and tell you about it."

The woman was talking like she'd done Hermione some huge favour in calling to inform Hermione of the horrible thing she had done.

"Give me the catalogue number and name of the potion so I can find it," Hermione ordered, the first thing she'd said since her mother's horrible revelation.

"Hermione," her mum said sternly, not liking her daughter's tone, "I understand that you're mad at me, but I was just trying to do what was best for you."

"'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions,' mum. Just give me the catalogue information so I can hang up."

Predictably, Hermione's mother bristled at the tone, but though she had too much pride to admit it, she'd been horribly wrong to try and break up her daughter's relationship and so gave Hermione the information she needed before hanging up on her daughter.

Hermione looked from the phone giving her a dial tone to Malfoy. "Did you do something in particular to anger her, or is this just some long-buried belief that my judgement can't be trusted?"

Not much more awake than Hermione, Malfoy flopped back onto her bed. "I didn't make the best impression, but I thought we'd gotten past that and your parents were even starting to accept me."

Sensing a story there, Hermione cuddled back under her blankets. "I sense a story there. Come over here and tell me." She indicated the half of her bed that she never seemed to use. Apparently, even without her memories, she habitually left spaces for Malfoy in her life.

When Malfoy was settled beside her, he began the story, shooting her a sleepily amused grin. "It was your birthday, and I wanted to give you a special surprise. I Floo'd over here while you were still at work, lit candles all over your apartment..."

Hermione glanced over at him when he hesitated in continuing. She had an idea where this story was going, and was mortified.

"Your expression actually looked a lot like it does now when you Floo'd home to find me on the sofa, wearing only whipped cream and a cherry while your parents stood in the doorway, horrified."

Actually squeaking in horror, Hermione covered her face as she imagined it. "I must have been pretty upset with you."

"That's an understatement. You were furious, but I knew it was just because you were mortified so I didn't take your harsh words to heart."

Hermione fell back to sleep listening to Malfoy chuckling at the memory. She would deal with the new information of her mum's potion in the morning when the sun was in the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**A/N: Hello readers, last chapter!**

**Thanks so much to all of the people who reviewed! I never expected such a response to my little out of control oneshot, you guys are the best. Also thanks to Rumaan for the kind words and general awesomeness. **

**~Frosty**

When Hermione woke up at when the sun rose at precisely 06:11, she was alone in her bed and there was muffled swearing coming from her living room.

Curious, she padded out to investigate.

Malfoy was on his knees in the fireplace, having words with someone. Judging by the three coffee cups lined up on the mantle, she was willing to bet that he hadn't gotten much sleep. She left him to his berating of blameless potion company employees and went to raid her cupboards for something that he could eat.

When Malfoy finally pulled his head out of the fireplace, Hermione was waiting with pancakes she'd found in the freezer. They were slightly freezer-burnt and a little too crispy in sports from her ancient toaster, but they were better than nothing. A stomach full of coffee wasn't going to do Malfoy any good.

"What's the news?" Hermione asked him as she handed him the pancakes.

He nodded his thanks, accepting the plate. "I contacted the company that sent your mum the potion and got a list of ingredients. Combined with the potion that the redheaded harpy gave to you, and the random plant matter the careless bint dropped in there, it's very possible that it could have caused your current... condition."

"Shouldn't we contact a Potion Master, just to be certain?"

Malfoy paused in his consumption of the pancakes.

"You forgot that as well, love?" he asked with a smug smirk, "I'm the foremost potion's expert in the country."

Hermione was impressed and it showed, only making Malfoy's smirk increase.

"If there's one good thing about your lost memory, it's that I get to see that expression again. You're just as impressed as you were the first time."

"Does this explain my memory loss as well?" She was hopeful, but not stupid. Hermione knew that it was very unlikely that the same potion that had turned her into a plant had also erased only her memories of Malfoy.

"No. That's something else. I can't think of any potion that would erase only your memories of a single person."

* * *

"There's something that's been bothering me," Hermione said later that morning. Malfoy had gone home to begin working on a potion to that would change her back to normal and then returned to her apartment. While he'd been doing that, Hermione had taken her mineral bath and mulled over every little fact she had taken in since the beginning of her investigation, trying to find a clue.

"What's that?"

"Daphne denied that she knew about us dating, but there was no way I wouldn't have told her."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I cancelled my engagement to her younger sister the moment we decided that we were serious enough to tell our friends and family." At Hermione's frown, he added, "It was one of those betrothed at birth things that I didn't see a point in breaking unless I found someone I could see myself spending the rest of my life with."

She didn't want to believe it, but Daphne made sense as the person who had taken her memories. The older Greengrass' comments regarding her sister being despondent about not getting what she wanted and then the remark about her mood improving made a lot more sense. Malfoy had broken off the engagement, and then Hermione's memories or her relationship were lost, thus leaving Astoria an opening to console Malfoy.

"Her position in the shop would give Daphne plenty of access to my apartment. It would have been simple for her to get rid of all evidence of you," Hermione said. Speaking the words felt like she was losing some sort of battle.

Malfoy glanced at the clock. "Is she working now?" She nodded. "I think it's time we pay Miss. Greengrass a little visit."

* * *

Daphne smiled when Hermione entered her shop to the cheery chiming of bells, but the happy expression fell right off of her face when Malfoy entered behind Hermione.

"Draco!" she squeaked, looking terrified. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes darted between Malfoy and Hermione, probably trying to discern whether they knew what she had done or not – and by this point, Hermione knew that Daphne had done _something_.

"I think you know exactly why I'm here, Daphne." Malfoy's voice was deep with unspoken threats. Even though he wasn't upset with her, Hermione got the shivers. She could only imagine how much worse it was for Daphne, who bore the brunt of Malfoy's anger.

Daphne's perfect posture crumpled under Malfoy's stare. Her shoulders hunched forward, and she curled around herself slightly, as if she was protecting herself from an expected blow. "It wasn't my idea," she wailed.

Surprised that it had been so easy for Malfoy to intimidate the usually cool Daphne, Hermione just watched as Daphne was interrogated. Malfoy wasn't really leaving Hermione any openings to speak anyway.

"If it wasn't your idea, then whose was it? And what _exactly_ wasn't your idea?"

Daphne cringed further. "You have to understand, when you broke off your engagement with Astoria, she was completely heartbroken. She'd spent so long convincing herself that she was in love with you that she didn't know what to do with herself once there was no longer a chance of the future she'd always envisioned."

"So you tried to give her a second chance by ruining our relationship?" Hermione demanded. Malfoy gave her a look that clearly told her to be quiet and let him handle the situation, but she was just so upset that she hadn't been able to keep her thoughts to herself any longer. Besides, what business did he have just dismissing her like that?

"Hermione," Daphne said, focusing her attention on the less intimidating of the pair, "You have to understand that I really like you. You're one of my best friends, but family comes first."

Hermione shook her head. "Family may come first, but helping someone is not excuse to forget about what's right and wrong, and taking someone's memories is certainly wrong."

Knowing there was no redemption for someone who was entirely unapologetic for her horrible actions, Malfoy didn't bother berating the older Greengrass daughter and instead took an alternate route. "You were always rubbish at memory charms. Who was it that erased Hermione's memories?"

Still cringing, Daphne met his eyes. "You have to understand, Draco, she only wanted what's best for you. Befriending someone of... unfortunate blood-" she shot an apologetic look at Hermione "-is one thing, but _marrying _one is something else entirely."

Hermione was hurt beyond belief that someone she thought had been her friend had not only betrayed her, but obviously still held a pretty strong prejudice against her parentage. Somewhat used to the cold feeling of betrayal freezing her stomach and tightening her chest at this point, Hermione was able to push it aside and shoot a questionable look at Malfoy. "Marriage?"

His jaw tensed even as a light flush spread across his cheekbones. "I asked my mother for grandmother's engagement ring right after I broke off my engagement with Astoria." Daphne's edging away caught his attention. "We have more pressing matters to handle at the moment. We'll discuss it later."

"Daphne," Hermione said, hating that she really had to choice but to say what she knew had to be said, "I think it's best that you go home now. Don't come back; you're fired."

"After the three years I've been working here, you're just going to scrap our friendship and fire me at the same time, just because of one little mistake?" Daphne ignored Malfoy's intimidating glare and gave Hermione a wide-eyed, sincere expression.

"You scrapped our friendship yourself when you assisted in the removal of my memories."

Daphne pursed her lips and was on the verge of objecting, but Malfoy stemmed any protests she may have had by pointedly putting his hand on his wand. He was more than willing to hex her, but had been holding back so as to avoid upsetting his sort of girlfriend.

Keeping her eyes on Malfoy at all times, Daphne edged her way towards the door. She seemed to have finally gotten the hint that she should leave.

"Greengrass," Malfoy called when she was almost out the door, "Just so I can hear the words from your mouth, because I know she's going to ask: it was my mother that took Hermione's memories, right?"

Daphne nodded. "It was your mother. She asked me to lure Hermione out on a lunch date and then she stunned her and dragged her into an alley to Obliviate her."

Hermione's body only stayed upright from sheer force of will, she was shaking with something, be it anger, grief, pain, she wasn't sure. When Daphne finally left the store and Malfoy had flicked his wand to flip the "open" sign to "closed," Hermione allowed herself to sag against the counter. She tried to stop herself from thinking of all of the people that had been against her and Malfoy's relationship and all of the friendships that were damaged, possibly irrevocably, by the refusal of her loved ones to accept Malfoy. Something about Malfoy made her think that the benefit was worth the price, so she was going to do what everyone seemed unable to and trust her judgement.

Opening her eyes, Hermione found that Malfoy had ducked his head to peek at her face worriedly. It was still a little disconcerting to see him looking anything but contemptuous, but she was gradually getting used to it.

"We're going to have to see your mother now, aren't we?" she asked, her emotional exhaustion clear in her voice.

"I'm not looking forward to this any more than you are."

* * *

When they found her, Narcissa was wandering her gardens, followed by a pair of albino peacocks and a House Elf supporting a tray of what appeared to be a delicate crystal flute holding champagne. She reached down and took a slip from champagne as Hermione and Malfoy watched her from the other side of the Malfoy gate.

"No wonder you were such a pretentious, entitled little brat," Hermione whispered to the blond at her side. Just watching his mother for a few seconds left Hermione feeling irritated, it was no wonder Malfoy had been such a petulant and angry child.

Malfoy chuckled and pressed his hand to the gate. It recognised him as a Malfoy and turned into smoke, admitting the pair to the Malfoy estate.

"Draco, I thought you might be stopping by," Narcissa said. Her smile didn't reach her eyes – it barely reached her lips. She only acknowledged Hermione with a flick of her eyes and a tightening of her already pinched smile. If she got any frostier, she was in danger of cracking her face.

"You know why I'm here." Malfoy's voice was equally chilled.

Her eyes flickered over to Hermione once more. "I'd thought that I handled _that_ particular problem. Can we not move beyond your childish insistence that you're going to marry a Muggleborn so you can marry Astoria and get on with your life?"

If Narcissa was trying to push her son to the edge of blackout rage, then she was well on her way to succeeding. Fearing that he may hex his own mother, Hermione placed a hand on Malfoy's arm, hoping to still him.

Her small gesture worked better than she could have hoped; he stopped his glaring, unclenched his fists, and looked down at Hermione with surprise.

"Malfoy, it's not worth it to get yourself thrown in prison."

"She's right, Draco. Besides, I've done nothing wrong."

Hermione bristled at that. "You _violated my brain_. I'm missing important parts of my life. If what I suspect if true, you took the _most important _part of my life. What right did you have to take that from me?"

Finally, Narcissa made eye contact with Hermione, her gaze full of contempt and barely veiled anger. "He's my _son_."

"Son does not mean puppet," Malfoy said.

Narcissa turned her attention away from Hermione – probably fearing that too long talking to a Muggleborn would tarnish her – and once more addressed her son, something about a mother having a right to interfere in her son's life if she knew that he was making a monumental mistake.

Hermione subtly slipped off her shoes so she could dig her toes in the soft grass. If she had to face the walking blizzard that was Narcissa Malfoy, she was glad that it could be outside in the sun. The gentle rays made her feel marginally better after the frostbite of Narcissa's words and glare.

She only half listened while Malfoy and his mother exchanged barbs. They were building to something, but Hermione didn't have the memories of their relationship that would have provided her with much needed context. She just made sure that she was ready in case either of them went for their wands. Hermione had heaps of fighting spirit in her, but when it seemed like it was the entire world – or at least everyone she cared about – against her, even her fighting spirit got a little weary.

"- And if I want to marry the woman I love, that's none of your business!"

"It's my business if you're soiling the Malfoy line!"

"What do you care about the Malfoy line? It's not like you give a damn about your husband or your son's feelings!"

Hermione turned her face up to the sun, feeling like she was physically wilting under the argument taking place around her. She opened her eyes when the arguing fell silent around her. Malfoy and his mother were both staring at her, Malfoy with something verging on raw panic and his mother with horrified fascination. Hermione tried to ask them what was wrong, but found that she no longer had a voice.

"Your hair," Malfoy whispered, reaching out and pulling a strand around for Hermione to see. From what she could tell, her hair was mostly still hair, but there were a few strands of berries and leaves naturally growing in there. Additionally, Hermione's skin seemed to be tinged with green.

Seeing this, Malfoy grabbed both of her shoulders and looked her dead in the eye. "The potion that's going to turn you back should be ready tomorrow. Don't you dare give up on being human before then, Granger."

Hermione nodded and tried to answer again, forgetting that she no longer had a voice. Of course, plants didn't need a voice. She pointed to her throat and made a face, trying to convey that she could no longer speak.

"Don't think this is over, Mother," Malfoy threw over his shoulder ominously as he escorted Hermione away from the Manor with a gentle grip on her elbow.

* * *

The next morning found Hermione and Malfoy seated in a waiting room in St. Mungo's. Since they now knew what exactly was wrong with her and her condition was very soon going to be reversed, they were looking into getting her memories restored.

The familiar process brought Hermione back to the trouble it had been for her to get her parent's memories restored. While she was a capable witch, she was no expert on memory loss and, as an amateur, hadn't trusted herself to be mucking around in the delicate brains of her parents. There was too much at risk for someone so inexperienced to attempt.

She knew that there were two ways to break a memory charm: have a professional carefully restore the memory channels that had been forcefully collapsed when the charm was cast, or, as Voldemort and his followers had found, through torture. The second option was something that Hermione wasn't willing to try; she'd had more than enough torture for a lifetime. She shuddered at the memory, half wishing that the memory of _that _had been the one taken instead of her relationship.

The tapping of Malfoy's long fingers drew her attention to the man seated beside her. He'd been antsy ever since she'd started looking more like a plant, but his current state of unrest was even worse. She touched his arm to gain his attention and widened her eyes questioningly at him.

His fingers stilled their restless tapping against his leg, but his shoulders didn't lose their tense set. "It's nothing. Don't worry about me."

He could say that, but that didn't stop her from doing it. He was an idiot if he thought dismissing her like that was going to change her concerns. Her expression must have showed this, because he rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair and looked away from her, presumably to stop her from reading his unrest in his eyes.

Hermione gave up on dealing with him and sat rigidly in her seat until a Healer called her name. She got up to go, but noticed that Malfoy was still sitting. How did he expect her to explain what the Healer had said, write him a letter? Hermione grabbed his hand and tugged him after her, ignoring his surprised expression.

* * *

Taking Malfoy with her into the Healer's office had been a mistake. Narcissa had done a very thorough job of erasing Hermione's memories and the chance of the Healer being able to restore them was depressingly slim. Malfoy had gone completely still at this proclamation and he hadn't so much as looked at Hermione since; not when they were in the office, not as they exited the hospital, and now, not as she sat in a patch of sun in the park and watched him pace.

"You know," he laughed bitterly, still not looking at her, "Some part of me wanted to believe that my mother wasn't the one behind this. I had to hear it from her own lips that she had completely disregarded my happiness in favour of her stupid, outdated views on blood purity."

Hermione wanted to comfort him, but how was she supposed to do that when he couldn't even look at her? She eventually decided it was best to let him get whatever was bothering him off of his chest. It seemed to be what he needed from her at the moment.

"For most of my life, my mother's been the only one who really cared for me no matter what I did, but now... How can you take the one person who means the world from someone you claim to love?"

He was hurting, but had yet to look at her, so Hermione stayed where she was, promising herself that the moment he looked at her, she'd be there to give him comfort.

When his pacing stopped she was already on her feet and ready to go to him. He finally did glance at her and Hermione was in his arms the next second.

"You have no idea how hard it is to miss you when you're right beside me," he mumbled into her hair.

Hermione's heart twisted for the man that she'd come to care about despite her memory loss. She squeezed him tighter and rubbed her hands up and down his back, comforting him in the only way she could.

Her tear ducts seemed to have been lost; she couldn't even cry for him. Unable to produce tears, her eyes settled on an uncomfortable burning sensation that made her blink too frequently. Her eyes, like Hermione herself, remembered how to cry but just weren't capable of it anymore.

Abruptly, he pulled away and met her gaze. "Is there any hope of us ever having something between us if you don't get your memories back? I think I need to prepare myself now if I'm going to have to leave you."

Hermione reached up and put her hands on either side of his face, trying to make him understand with her stare that she couldn't guarantee that things would be the same as before, but she was willing to bet they could be together again. It had happened once and she still felt a pull towards him even though she couldn't remember a thing about their time together.

Unfortunately, Malfoy just wasn't getting the message. Something in his eyes seemed to go out as he watched her.

"I know you can't speak right now, but I need to know that it's possible."

Hermione frowned, not sure how in the world he expected her to convey that. Maybe he'd wait while she wrote him a letter explaining her feelings? Somehow she doubted that was the solution he was thinking.

Her stomach dropped when she noticed his eyes dipping to peek at her lips.

"Just one more time, kiss me. If our spark is gone, then I'll step aside and start working on letting you go."

Hermione tried to convey with her eyes and gestures that he couldn't kiss her, but he wasn't looking at her eyes. He was focused on her lips.

When he dipped his head to kiss her, Hermione panicked, turned her face away and shoved him. It killed her to see the hurt that bloomed in his eyes, but it was better than literally killing him with her venomous lips.

He wasn't looking at her again. "I get it. I'll bring over the potion to turn you back to normal tonight and then I'll get out of your life."

* * *

Hermione spent a few hours walking around in the sunlight to clear her mind of the tormented face of Malfoy as he moved away from her. It twisted and turned in her mind, torturing her for hours. At first, Hermione tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that she'd get to see him in a few hours when she could take his potion and then explain to him what had happened, but then something occurred to her: torture could reverse a memory charm.

Hoping that emotional torture was enough to break the charm keeping her memories from her, Hermione replayed Malfoy's tormented face in her mind again and again until it was all she could see. She thought about it so hard that she had to sit down and cradle her head in her hands because it was starting to hurt. Even then she focused.

The headache continued to worsen until she could barely stand the pain. It felt like her brain was shredding itself inside her skull. For the second time, Hermione's eyes developed a prickly feeling. She had no doubt that if she hadn't been a plant, she would have been crying from the pain.

The blinding headache continued to worsen until it was unbearable, when suddenly, with a snap that was almost audible, the headache suddenly disappeared. In its place were her memories; meeting Draco, dumping her glass of wine over his head on their first date, her mortification over the incident with the whip cream and her parents, and then him taking her out for ice cream to try and make her feel better. On the tail of her memories was fury that he had given up on her so easily, without even giving her a chance to explain herself.

She Apparated home to take a mineral bath, needing to gain some energy for what was sure to be a draining confrontation once he arrived with her potion.

* * *

Just before sunset, there was a knock at her door.

Hermione opened it to find that Draco was avoiding her eyes again. With her memories had come the knowledge that he did that because he'd never been able to entirely conceal his hurt from his surprisingly expressive eyes, and he hated having people know that he wasn't the cold, unfeeling individual that he'd been trying to become for most of his childhood.

"You need to drink the entire thing," he said, thrusting the vial into her hands and turning to leave again.

Not willing to let him get away with his retreat, Hermione grabbed him by the ear and dragged him inside her apartment. She thrust him at the sofa and pointed firmly to show that he was going to stay there until she let him leave. Draco rubbed his ear and shot her an accusing look, but he didn't try to leave again.

"I get that you don't want me to leave until you're sure the potion works, but I have somewhere to be."

Ignoring him, she tipped back the potion and waited. Hermione half expected the raspberry-tasting concoction to make her vomit like everything else that she'd ingested since she'd become a plant. Happily, it didn't.

A comforting warmth started in her stomach and radiated throughout the rest of her body. She stretched out her hands, watching as they changed from their pale green to the usual pinkish colour. The warmth in her stomach started to feel uncomfortable as strange things seemed to be happening to her insides. Nothing hurt, but there was a twisting feeling and the building of pressure until it suddenly released and she felt normal once more. Last to change back to normal was her hair, the berries and leaves disappearing and leaving behind her usual heavy curls.

Draco had watched the entire transformation. He gave her a sad little smile when she twirled to show him that she was entirely human again. The pull she'd felt towards Draco as a plant was a hundred times stronger when she was the same species. She wanted nothing more than to settle in his lap and kiss him senseless for the rest of the night. But first she had to yell at him.

"It worked," he said hollowly, stalling the yelling fit that he didn't even know was about to happen, "I'll just be going now."

"You will _not_," Hermione snapped. She was pleased that her voice had returned and sounded as vehement as she wanted it to. "You will sit there and let me yell at you for what a monumental idiot you were this afternoon."

Draco looked a little bewildered, but slowly sat back down on the sofa.

"First of all-" Hermione leaned down and pecked him on the lips, pulling away before he had time to respond "- I couldn't kiss you because I was _venomous_, you great lummox! You would have known this if you weren't so busy jumping to conclusions to give me a chance to explain myself."

He was too shell-shocked to do anything but blink at her stupidly. If Hermione hadn't already known that his intelligence was formidable, she would have wondered how in the world he'd managed to become such a successful Potion's Master.

Figuring that she may as well have her say before he managed to find his voice and started to object, Hermione continued. "Secondly, I'm disappointed in you for having so little faith in me, Draco." His head whipped up to stare at her, but she ignored it. "I would have thought that you'd at least be willing to give me a chance. You didn't even let them _try _to return my memories, you just overreacted and _left me_ to deal with everything on my own." She hadn't meant to sound needy, but her friends and _parents _had betrayed her because of her relationship with Draco, and she was feeling a little needy at the moment. Even the strongest people in the world had their vulnerable moments from time to time.

"You called me Draco," he observed. "You haven't called me Draco since before you lost your memories."

Hermione put her hands on her hips, trying to maintain her anger despite wanting nothing more than to melt into his arms and cuddle there. "That's what you choose to focus on instead of the fact that only moments ago you were ready to walk out my door, dooming me to put my life back together after I pushed away everyone close to me because they didn't approve of us? I was willing to do that if it meant that I could spend the rest of my life with you, but if you're so willing to just up and leave me, then it wasn't worth it at all."

Realization was dawning in his eyes as he stood from the sofa. "Hermione, do you have your memories back?"

Hermione took a step back in case he tried to grab for her. If he got his arms around her, all of the anger would just go right out of her, she knew it, and she still had things to say. "How does that matter? You've already left me."

"It matters." His eyes searched hers, looking for the answer he wanted. "How did it happen?"

"Torture can release hidden memories. I just focused on your face as you stupidly turned away from me – something I'm not planning on forgetting anytime soon. I hated that I was hurting you so much."

And then he grabbed her, squeezing her in a hug so tightly that her feet lifted up from the floor. She had been right in thinking that her anger would just drip off of her like raindrops as soon as he touched her, except instead of raindrops, her eyes started watering and then she was crying.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, having noticed the wet spot on his collar and known was had happened. "It's just that every time you called me Malfoy and looked at me like you had no idea why I was still sticking around, it hurt. I'm a selfish creature and have never been very good at sticking around when things get tough."

"You're not a coward, Draco," Hermione said firmly. "And if you ever leave me like that again, you better just stay away, because I'm going to do so much worse than twist your ear and yell at you."

He nodded and pulled away to enough to stare into her eyes so that she could read the sincerity in his. "I won't leave again."

"You better not, or I'll do something much more serious than just yell at you."

Then he did what had had obviously wanted to do for weeks and kissed her senseless. Hermione's earlier assumptions had been right; touching him when she was the same species brought about all kinds of fun tingly and warming sensations that hadn't been present when she'd been a plant.

* * *

The next morning, all was as it should be; Hermione had managed to sleep past sunrise and she woke up in Draco's arms where she belonged. He was already awake and watching her with a smile, but his eyes were sombre.

Hermione pecked him on the lips and rolled away from him. If they were going to have a serious conversation, she wanted to put some distance between them.

"We have to talk," she sighed. He nodded in agreement.

"I left you when you needed me, and last night aside, I know there's going to be consequences."

Hermione flopped her head back down onto her pillow. "I haven't forgiven you for it, but I've missed you so much. Given time, I haven't forgotten that you did everything you could to make me better before giving up, and I appreciate it. I think I can forgive you, and in the meantime, I don't want to be away from you."

"If it means anything at all, I'm sorry – and you know how infrequently I apologise."

She laid a hand on his cheek, stroking the stubble there. "I know you're sorry, and I'm sorry for how I hurt you when I'd forgotten you."

Turning his head, he kissed her palm. "You had my forgiveness from the start. None of that was your fault, and I could tell you felt horrible about it even when you didn't remember me."

"I'm so glad everything's as it should be once more," she sighed.

Apparently, their serious conversation was over because Draco grabbed her again and pulled her against him. "Me too. I had a miserable few hours yesterday thinking that we weren't going to be able to be together. I'd hate to experience the infinite misery that the rest of my life would become without you."

The kiss they were about to share was interrupted by Hermione's stomach, closely followed by the rumbled agreement of Draco's.

"Let's go scavenge some food," Hermione said, "I literally haven't eaten in weeks."

* * *

Three months later, Hermione and Draco's relationship was still going well. They'd talked on numerous occasions about Draco's leaving her when he thought she wasn't going to regain his memories, and while Hermione was still a little hurt that he hadn't been willing to fight for them, she understood that it had been difficult for him. If the situation had been reversed, she wasn't entirely certain that she wouldn't have done the same thing.

Draco had yet to speak to his mother, and Hermione was resolutely ignoring phone calls from her parents as well as persistent Floo calls and owls from Harry and Ginny. They weren't sure what they were going to do about the many people who had tried to break them apart, but they had felt justified in ignoring all of them until their relationship was back to something resembling normalcy.

"You have to talk to her sometime," Draco said as the phone rang for the eighth time in the last hour. "She's your mother."

He knew exactly how many times Hermione's mother had phoned because he'd been there for each and every call. After losing Hermione for a few long weeks, Draco had realized that living arrangements weren't important. Hermione kept her apartment over her shop and Draco moved in with her, helping her run the shop when he wasn't making potions in the basement.

"I could say the same to you."

Draco arched his back and stretched his arm behind him to grab the receiver off of its cradle to stop the ringing, but he didn't speak. Instead, he held the phone out to Hermione. "My mother has been corrupted beyond any human decency by circumstances that no human should ever have to face. There's no redemption for her, but yours is just a bitch with horrible judgement and good intentions, but a twisted way of handling them. Talk to her."

Sighing, Hermione took the phone. "What do you want, mum?"

"Was that Draco? Are you back with him again? I thought you couldn't remember anything. Did he just call me a bitch?"

Hermione waited while her mother questioned herself out, glaring at Draco for picking up the phone. "What did you want, mum?" she asked again.

"Hermione, you're my daughter and you can't just ignore me forever."

"You don't even seem to understand how horrible it was of you to give me a potion. Magic isn't something that you can just play with not knowing the consequences."

"I don't belong to your world and should just stay in mine, right?"

Hermione's hand tightened around the receiver until her knuckles were white and the plastic creaked a complaint. Seeing this, Draco came to stand in front of her and made a sympathetic face, mouthing 'you're breaking the phone.'

Taking a second to stick her tongue out at the blond, Hermione answered her mum. "That's not what I said at all. I don't think anyone should attempt something as dangerous as potions without first thoroughly researching the topic. You should no more tamper with potions than I should dabble in dentistry."

Draco distracted her momentarily by snorting in amusement.

"Hermione," her mother said, not acknowledging Hermione's point because it was a valid one. "Christmas is coming up and your father and I miss you. Are you going to be coming home?"

Hermione thought about it for a moment, picturing herself subtly casting revealing spells on everything she or Draco consumed on the off chance that her mum tried to slip either of them another potion. She refused to spend a holiday like that. However, Hermione's large brain presented her with a tidy little solution.

"No, I'm not coming home. In all honestly, I don't trust you around food." Her mum gasped in offence, but Hermione pressed on. "However, if you and Dad wanted to come here, Draco and I would be happy to host Christmas dinner."

Draco wrinkled his nose at her but nodded, accepting that he'd go along with Hermione's plan.

Having lost both sets of grandparents a long time ago, and both parents being only children, Christmas dinner usually just involved Hermione and her parents, occasionally a few close friends, so no one would be without a place to go if Hermione's parents weren't at their house for Christmas.

"I'll think about it," her mum said reluctantly. Hermione knew that her dad would talk her mum around.

"Okay. Bye mum."

Draco was staring at her as she hung up the phone.

"What?" she asked.

"Marry me."

Completely blindsided, Hermione didn't say anything, only stared as she replayed what he'd said.

"Okay," she eventually sputtered when he continued to wait.

His eyes went a little distant, even when he smiled joyously at her.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked.

"We just have to break in to the Manor and steal my grandmother's wedding ring. The old bag was horrible, but she left it to _me_ in her will, not my mother."

Laughing, Hermione kissed him. She knew she couldn't ignore Harry and Ginny forever, despite their horrible actions, they were like family, and just like with her mother, Hermione was going to have to speak to them eventually. However, the only thing she had to worry about at the moment was making a Christmas dinner up to her mother's high standards and apparently plotting a break-in to one of the most magically protected privately owned buildings in Magical Britain.

Draco pulled away from her. "We have three weeks to think of something nice and horrible to slip into your mother's food. I'm going to brew the perfect potion for her."

She laughed and kissed him again, making a mental note to keep a close eye on him while she was preparing the dinner. Draco loved her and didn't want her miserable, but he had won several awards for his inventive and ingenious potions. Even worse, he was vindictive enough to find a potion that would turn her mother into a Ficus for the duration of their Christmas dinner.

**The End**


End file.
